


Royal Pain

by SonicZephyr



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicZephyr/pseuds/SonicZephyr
Summary: Crack AU where the Gallifreyans hold a contest for their prince to find a human bride.





	Royal Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doctorinblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/gifts).



> A gift for doctorinblue - plot and continuity go out the window for the sake of being silly and putting a smile on my dearest friend's face. I cannot guarantee accuracy or actual entertainment value.

It was Sunday. Sylvia slammed the flier on the kitchen table with a manic grin of someone who wants to eat your kidneys. “Donna, have you seen the news?”

Donna focused all of her attention on spooning single Cheerios into her mouth. It was too early and she was too hungover for this. “Not since 2005.”

Sylvia’s face melted into a scowl as she slid the flier closer to her daughter. “Read it.”

Donna scanned it. The new alien overlords are requesting red-haired humans from the UK to take place in an exciting new opportunity to blah blah blah. Donna sighed and lifted her bowl, leaving for the kitchen. Sylvia followed. 

“Well?” she asked, as Donna poured the remaining milk and soggy-O’s into the sink. “This is such a perfect opportunity for you, Donna! You should sign up.”

Donna turned to her mother and blinked slowly. “I have a concussion. I’m going to bed.”

“You do not,” Sylvia said. “And you’re staying put. Do you know how important this could be? You could be a princess! A married princess. I could have fairly humanoid grandchildren and you could move out!”

“Doesn’t this seem a bit… weird?” Donna asked, leaning back against the counter. “Like some internet scam? Ancient aliens take over the Earth and suddenly they’re having an X-Factor competition to find someone to shack up with? Doesn’t that strike you as  _ odd _ , mother?”

“What strikes me as odd is that you’re nearly 40, unemployed, unmarried, and you still haven’t stopped making me fish damp cereal from the drain when I do the washing up.”

“Ow?”

“I’m signing you up.”

“Shit.”

* * *

Shit indeed. This competition took place on Wednesday in Wales, of all places. Donna planned on wearing a basic jeans and tunic combo and calling it a day, but no. Sylvia insisted she wear a dress. Can’t meet intergalactic royalty looking like a suburban rat mother, she said. You have to look your best, she said. Donna spent the four hour drive in a crinkly, too-short dress she hadn’t worn in a decade. She blasted terrible pop music the whole way, because if she couldn’t be drunk for this, she could at least sing about being absolutely sloshed. 

Pulling into the carpark/wilting field that the flier directed her to, Donna was filled with immense relief. Cars, vans, SUVs, trucks, buses, scooters, bicycles, rickshaws, vespas - wheeled vehicles as far as the eye could see. There had to be thousands of people here. At least if she was going to be kidnapped and organ harvested, she wouldn’t be lonely. 

She grabbed her heels off the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. After wandering about awkwardly for the better part of half an hour, she finally followed a line of gingers to the meeting place - the edge of a quarry. 

“This a...uh… cult thing?” Donna asked the woman next to her as she watched the long line of people descend into the rock hole. “This seems like a weird cult thing. Is there gonna be a gaping pit at the bottom we all get pushed into?”

“Do I know you?” the woman said, side-stepping away from Donna. “You’re the competition. Buzz off.”

Donna shrugged and got in line. 

* * *

The bottom of the quarry did, in fact, contain a gaping black hole with a sign that read  _ Alien X-Factor Marriage Contest _ pointing to it. Mind you, the sign was a freshly painted piece of plywood with a red arrow pointing to the abyss. Some jumped immediately. Others turned and left. Donna, however, peered into the hole and waited to hear a thud. There was none.

“Well,” Donna said to herself. “Would a bunch of weirdo aliens put out fliers just to have us jump into a pit? That seems like an awful lot of work when they could zap us with ray guns. But what’s the point of jumping in if-”

The woman beside her lifted her foot and booted Donna into the pit. “No monologuing.”

* * *

Donna woke to the sound of someone singing. She opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around. She was in a pile of other semi-conscious gingers of various shapes, sizes, and genders. Some were waking, climbing to their feet, and getting in line behind the teenager singing her heart out before an audience of thousands. They were cheering. Donna carefully climbed to her feet and got in line. Maybe she could ask where the exit was. Maybe they’d steal her kidneys. She didn’t have a lot of experience with aliens. 

The girl finished singing and a panel of judges in odd robes with high collars stood. They were all very old, very human-looking, except for a youngish one that looked more like a human bean. They old ones held up signs with 10s printed on them. The girl at the microphone squealed and jumped in place. The sting bean held up a sign with a 2 and flopped back into his seat. The old ones peered at him. 

“Explain!” one boomed at him.

“She’s pitchy,” he said, tossing his sign onto the table. “Also, she’s an actual fetus.”

“Theta, she’s of prime child-bearing age and has the voice of an angel!”

“We have looms and she’s still pitchy,” he said, reaching over and swatting a button in the center of the table. A buzzer sounded and the elders huffed, sitting back down in their seats. A green light shone down on the now pouting teenager, and she blipped out of existence. Donna blinked. The plywood sign had been surprisingly accurate. 

* * *

By the time Donna’s at the front of the line, she’s only seen five people not get blipped. None of them sang. One juggled his shoes, though. They all got whisked off the stage by more high-collar elders to who knows where. Donna stepped up to the mic and looked at the sea of people (aliens) before her.

“Wow, okay, uhhh…” she started, before clearing her throat. “Hi, I’m Donna Noble from London. I have no discernible skills or talents, but I’d like to not die. Where did those beam th-”

“AAAAAAAH!” 

String bean man jumped to his feet, pointing at Donna. She glanced around, and then pointed at herself. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” he said, leaning over the judges’ table. “I know you!”

“Uhhhhhhh…..?” Donna stole a quick look over her shoulder. The people in line behind her had an even mix of judgemental and curious looks about them. She looked back at Skinny. 

“I came to Earth as a child!” he said. “It was supposed to be a nice beach holiday. Sun. Sand. Ice cream. But you, ohhhhh you, Donna Noble, ruined it!”

“I did nothing of the sort!” she shouted. “This is slander!”

“You pushed me down and stole my ice cream at the Brighton Pier!” he said, practically climbing atop the table. The elders shot annoyed glances at one another. “You called me a scrawny little crybaby!”

The memory hit her like a ton of bricks and her face begins to heat.

“YOU!” she spit back after a beat. “You cut in front of me, bought the last 99, and stuck your damn tongue out at me. You’re lucky I didn’t beat your scrawny little crybaby butt!”

“Yeah, well…. I’m taller than you now!” he said. One of the elders slowly reached for the buzzer, but String Bean smacked his away without looking. “And we don’t have 99s on my planet so I deserved it more!”

“You’re  _ still _ a scrawny little crybaby!” Donna flipped him off and pushed the microphone stand over. Feedback filled the room, and she shouted “GET BENT!” over the screeching. 

Donna stormed off the stage as a concerned elder hurried out to right the stand. 

The whole scene was broadcasted to Earth in brilliant HD. Sylvia buried her face in a pillow and screamed. Wilf let out a hoot and cheered for his girl. 


End file.
